



•- "ft 







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40 







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V*<'.....<^^— 






























°o 




^uljentlta. 



" Let one poor sprig of bay around my head 

*' Bloom while 1 live, and point me out when dead.'* 



ChurcLiU, 



UNPUBLISHED, 



-•<?»<»i^0^ 3 ^^<^^gge^««» 



LONDON : 

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY S. HOOD; 
39, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD } 



1812. 



205449 • 
'13 



' te-i-J^^"* ■ ' •■■ ' -^'^ 



%\ Jones, 84, Waraow-Street, Soho, 



IT may be some apology for the 
imperfections of the following Poem, to state, that 
it was chiefly written about five years ago, when I 
was not seventeen ; a few lines have been added 
since. The spot it attempts to celebrate is indebted 
for its principal beauties to the taste and the exer- 
tions of its present occupier, the gentleman whose 
name is recorded in the text. To do justice to the 
merits of its scenery would require a muse of much 
greater brilliancy than mine. 

Wherever I am conscious of having bort^owed 
the idea or the expression of another, it shall be ac- 
knowledged in the notes. 



A. a 

May, 1812, 



GROOBY. 



" Hie terrarum mihi preeter omues 
" Angulus 1 idet." Hor. 



JIMMORTAL poets, in immortal strains, 
Have crowned with fame Arcadia's happy plains^ 
And that blest country, where Peneus leads 
His liquid stores along Thessalian meads ; 
Yet could my muse to equal heights aspire, 
Or catch one spark of their celestial fire. 
E'en these, tho' circled with eternal greens, 
Should yield the palm to Grooby's chaster sceacs. 



6 

Where hill and vale, the meadow and the wood. 
The lawn*s bright verdure, and the crystal iSood, 
Each sylvan grace harmoniously allied. 
Arcadian beauty and Thessalian pride. 
Spring's lavish bloom and summer's rich display 
Conspire to charm, irregularly gay, 
.And, join'd with nature, modest art declares 
The sense, the taste, the elegance of Pares. 

Long had the land, to nakedness a prey. 
Seen years revolve, and seasons waste away. 
No sylvan honours deck'd the desert plain. 
No scattered seed produced the golden grain. 
No Pan was there, no Flora's sweet array. 
E'en whiter linger'd on the lap of May. 
Till art and genius bade the planter's toil 
Call lurlh the embryo beauties of the soil; 



T 
Bade blooming shrubs the gay parterre adorn'; 
Stretched the green velvet of the sloping lawn ; 
Saw kinder suns and gentler breezes bring 
The summer's warmth, the fragrance of the spring; 
Saw stately trees and shady groves arise. 
And from the desert reared a Paradise* 

Blest, who can find, ^mid solitudes like these. 
Those three best joys, health, competence, and ease, 
And laid at rest beyond thtgnoble strife. 
The bustling toils, the wayward cares of life. 
And, free from storms that on the great ones fall. 
Has but few wishes and enjoys them all. 
He, not unconscious of his happy state. 
Fearless of Fortune, and resigned to fate^' 
Courts the Parnassian Muses ; or explores 
The healing powers of nature's balmy stores; 



Or penetrates, with his interior light, 
Th'expanse above removed from human sight; 
Or bids his soul on wings seraphic rise 
To range with Milton 'mid its kindred skies. 
To scan the heavens, and view its last abode 
The bosom of its Father and its God.. 

These are thy blessings, Grooby; these impart 
A gen'rous pleasure to the grateful heart, 
Which, far remote, invokes th'Aonian powers. 
And twines a wreath to deck thy laureate bowers* 

Let tasteless others, with a servile awe,:^ 
Give fashion's follies all the force of law. 
Thy gentler genius^ Grooby, can despise 
Art's idle whims and useless pageantries; 



9 

Can scorn the pride and glitter of expence, 
If destitute of elegance and sense. 
And view, more pleas'd, its native riv'let stray. 
And through thy meadows work its silent way. 
Than if conipell'd in leaden tubes to rise. 
And toss its tortur'd waters to the skies. 
Amid thy scenes no murble statues reign ; 
No fish-taird triton awes the wondering swain ; 
With red right-arm, no thunder-bearing Jove 
Scares the poor timid tenants of the grove ; 
But all around the loves and graces fly. 
And taste and beauty charm the gazing eye. 
Unerring nature sketched the fair design. 
Left Pares to soften ev'ry harsher line. 
To blend the pleasing powers of light and shade. 
To deck the verdant hill, and ope the glade 

B 



1^ 

Where birds that haunt the meadow or the flood. 
That float in air, or warble in the wood, 
Roost without fear; and through the live-long day 
Breathe out their little souls in harmony. 

Yes, Grooby, yes, if e'er some God may deiga 
To leave the skies and visit earth again; 
If Jove himself Olympus should forego, 
Where would lie find a sweeter spot below? 
What though no Faunus, in thy greenwood glade. 
Woo to his arms some coy reluctant maid. 
Some fair Lodoiia, who, to shun the flame. 
Melts into waves, and bathes thy fields a stream; 
What though no Dryads, round their native oak^ 
Shriek lit the Wocdman's unrelenting stroke; 
No gieen-hair'd Nymph beside thy waters rove^ 
Soy Satyrs liaunt the bosom of thy grove; 



II 

Yet can the poet pensive, as he strays 

Along thy shady walks, thy silent ways, 

In ev'ry dell and knoll and thicket trace 

A power divine, the Genius of the place ; 

See fairy phantoms people ev^iy bower. 

Dance round the shrub, and hover o'er the flower; 

And, as the visionary shapes arise 

In quick succession lo his wondering eyes. 

Fancy, enrapcur'd, inai:es a sudden stand. 

Pays a low homage to the mystic band; 

Her own creation's charms delights to view. 

And almost thinks the dear delusion true. 

Ah! happy scenes, as in your shade I stray, 
I pity those whom the vain world calls gay : 
And think that he, whom partial fates exclude 
From nature's peace, from nature's solitude, 
b2 



12 

Condemned reluctant, amid noise and strife. 
To stem the troubled stream of public life. 
If 'chance some friendly Genius guide his way 
To Grooby's landscape, opening on the day. 
Like the sage wandVer in Calypso's grot, 
Oh! he would linger o^/the lovely spot. 
And feel ten thousand secret charms combined 
To captivate the sense and soothe the mind. 
*Twere not alone the calm romantic bowers, 
The lawn enameFd with the fairest flowers. 
The hill, the dale, the intermingling trees, 
The lake's broad bosom dimpling in the breeze; — 
No, he would hail, in the sequestered scene. 
The seat of health, and ease, and mirth serene. 
Of those pure pleasures which can never cloy, 
Of social comfort and domestic joy; 



]3 
And, as his heart expands with warmer glow. 
And tastes a bHss which worldlings never knov/, 
Would own, at length, contentment's genuine 

sphere. 
And long to dwell in sweet seclusion here. 



1:4 



TO MYRA. 



" Illam, quicquid agit, quoquo vestigia flectit, 
*• Componit fiu-tim subsequitiirque decor." Tibull. 



jOEAR are those locks of auburn hue. 
And dear those eyes of heavenly blue ; 
But dearer far the smile so meek 
That wantons on thy rosy cheek. 
Oh ! 'tis the sunshine of the soul within, 

'Tis the sweet emblem of a heart that's kind^^ 
Myra, that face so form'd to win. 

Cannot reflect a vacant mind*. . . 



15 

Ah, no, those looks divinely mild. 
Betray a fond, a tender meaning ; 

And those twin lights so bright, so wild. 
Utter a language past explaining. 

If there'^ a bliss below the sky 

More exquisite than thought can feign, 
Tis to enjoy thy Company; 
To hear thee speak, to hear thee sigh. 
To catch the lustre from thine eye 

And dart it back again. 

" ^Tis then the captive bosom feels 
A magic spell around it wove;'* 
And, as the timid hand conceals 
The blush that o'er the features steals. 
Trembles, — and wonders if it's love* 



16 

TO MYRA, 

WITH A ROSE. 



Ambrosiaeque comae diviaum VERTICE odorem 
Spiiavere.'* Virgil. 



IF, as Pythagoreans say, 

The soul a change of body knows. 
Would mine could leave its native clay 

To animate this lovely rose. 

And then, if haply Myra deign 
To place me on her breast of snow. 

The proudest flower of Flora's train 
Vd deck my charms in deeper glow. 



17 
My leaves, on that Idalian throne. 

Would all their fragrant sweets impart ; 
Yes, they would breathe, for her alone. 

The incense of a grateful heart. 

The Loves that sport around her breast 
To my soft calyx would repair. 

And Cupid too, a welcome guest, 

Would flap his wings, and nestle there. 

And I would woo the lovely maid 
With all the art that flower can try; 

Blest if my labour be repaid 

With one kind glance of Myra's eye.— 
c 



18 
Or if among those tresses fair 

She deign to weave my pliant stem, 
I'd vie in crimson beauty there 

With ruby set in diadem. 

Half latent thus, a scent Fd shed 
From evVy pore of mantling bloom. 

And form around her graceful head 
An atmosphere of sweet perfume. 

Then, as of yore Cythera's queen 

The fragrance taught her son to know, 

Myra would stand, in form and mien, 
A very Venus here below. 



19 



TO THE SAME, 



VIOLET, ON VALENTINE'S DAY. 



** Modesie en ma couleur, modeste en mon sejoiir, 
" Fraucue <J'ambition, je me cache sous Therbe, 
** Mais, si siir votre front je puis me voir un jour^ 
•* La plus humble des fleurs sera la plus superbe.** 

^ 



^OME hither, ray pigeon,'^ in transport I cried. 
As the dawn of Saint Valentine's morn I espied; 
As I pluckt the dear flower which this paper 

declares. 
And thought of the charmer whose emblem it bears^ 
I joyously uttered, "Come hither my dove, 
** haste thee, O fly, as on pinions of love, 
c2 



2a 

" And this present transport through the regions of 

air 
" From the tenderest swain to the loveliest fair/' 

O sweet is its odour, and vivid its hue. 
And bright are the tints of its exquisite blue. 
But sweeter by far is the breath of her sigh. 
And brighter the lustre that darts from her eye. 
Then go, modest flower, my embassadress be; 
Ah, tell her how much she's the semblance of thee; 
And should you, perchance, be triumphantly blest 
With that envied appointment, a place on her 

breast. 
In thy own lovely image O strive to impart 
The pure and unspeakable thought of my heart. 
And whisper the maid, with that silent address. 
That language which nature can only express^ 



21 
That altho' in the circle of Flora's domain, 
Where the Loves and the Graces abundantly 

reign. 
No flower can be found whose attire is so fair. 
Whose form is so lovely, whose painting so rare. 
Yet unlike the gay tulip whose gaudy array 
Is displayed in bold pomp to the gaze of the day, 
Deep^ ah deep in the hedge-row thou hid'st thy 

meek head, 
And thick is the knot-grass that shelters thy bed» 

O yes, little plant, from thy innocent station. 
May the maid that I love derive this observation. 
That the features which please, and the charms 

which subdue. 
Are enhanced by the veil that conceals them from 
view: 



22 
That the beautiful form, which will dare to des 

pise 
The superfluous aid that gay Fashion supplies. 
When united with sense can a magic impart, 
Which, if once it engages, must capture the heart. 



29 



*' modus agri non ita magnus, 

** Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jngis aquae fons, 

*' Et paalnm sjlvae super his" — Horat. 

" tecum ut longae sociarem gandia vitae, 

" Inque tuo caderet nostra senecta sinu." Prop. 



ImINE is a cot in yonder glen 
With ev'ry woodland beauty fair. 

Far from the busy haunts of men. 
From courtly pomp and noisy care. 

There has my willing labour strove 
To plant the shrub, to rear the bower, 

To deck it for the maid I love, 

And group around her favorite flower. 



^ 2* 
The fragrant mead, the sloping hill, 

The throstle's note in copse-wood green. 

The murmurs of the gushing rill 

Conspire to lure her to the scene. 

There would we cheat life's little day 
With fond affection's tempered glow. 

And taste, as far as mortals may, 
The sweetest bliss enjoy'd below. 

And, Myra, when those charms are fled, 
And thou art old and feeble grown, 

ril joy to nurse thy aching head. 
And prize thee for thy worth alone. 



25 

Then say not I am doom'd to bear 
A fruitless homage to thy shrine; 

O thou wilt never, never share 
A heart so full of love as mine. 



26 



TO MYRA. 



** dum licet, inter nos laetemuramantes, 

'* Non satis est uUo tempore longus amor." Prop, 



That rosebud, my love, which you place in 
your breast. 

To find there a throne, and perhaps too a tomb. 
On the same parent stalk a twin-sister possest. 

Its rival in fragrance, in beauty, and bloom. 



27 
Twas the offspring of May prematurely displayed, 
'Ere young zephyr had borrow'd his warmth from 
the ray, 
'Ere the dew-drop of eve and the night's chilly 
shade 
Had been tempered awhile by the fervour of day. 

I mark'd the sweet plant as its bosom outspread, 
As its petals put forth their luxuriant dye; 

I propped up its stem, and I shelter'd its head 
From the cold nipping blasts of the varying sky. 

Delighted I watch'd, as its charms were displayed. 

Spring's insect - adventurers woo their young 

bloom ; 

Saw the butterfly's pastime a moment delay'd 

As he quafl'J from its anthers the honied perfjme. 
D2 



28 

And the bee too would seek, for her balm-laden 
thighs, 

On the cool downy lip of its blossom a seat; 
Ah! see in its cup how the forager lies 

And revels in scents irresistibly sweet ! 

Yes, I gaz'd with delight on its glowing attire 
Of simple vermilion; and said 'twas as fair 

As the roses that decked the fam'd Garland of 
Prior, 
As the roses that blush'd in Anacreon's hair. 

And forgetful, at length, that a speedy decay 

May overtake even mortals in life's sunny noon, 
1 had thought 'twould outlive the short season of 
May, 
And I thought ^twould be kiss'd b the breezes 
of June. 



29 
Ah! no ; in the heyday of beauty and scent. 
When it flirted with zephyr, and laugh'd in the 
ray. 
When wide round the garden its odour was sent. 
And its leaflets hung out their bright hue to the 
daj; 

Lo, silently mingling, the dun vapours lour; 

Down rattles the pitiless hail on its head ; 
Its petals are scattered; and one little hour 

Saw them healtJiy and gay, saw them withered 
and dead. 

Then Myra, my love, be advis'd by ray rhyme, 
For the rose has a moral intended for thee; 

Be not thrifty of charms only lent for a time. 
But hasten, O hasten to share them with me. 



30 



** Mille habct oruatus, mille deceutefLabet." Tib. 



« III it giu<a protervitas, 

" Et valtiis liimium lubiicus aspici." Hor, 



How lovely on Caelia's cheek 
Fair modesty's crimson is seen ! 

And those eyes — how slily they speak 
The sours soft emotion within ! 

Ah! never may such pretty spheres 
Be dimm'd by the dewdrop of woe; 

Nor the languor of life's busy cares 
Intrude on that innocent glow. 



31 
Or if from its crystalline cell 

Some tear should unhappily start ; 
If a sigh gently-breathing may tell 

The pangs of a sensible heart; 

O let them not, Caelia, prove 
Any boding of sorrow or care ; 

May the sigh be extorted by love. 
May pity have kindled the te^n 



82 



AN EXTRACT, 

See Notes^ 



Ah! sweet is the harp, and enchanting its tone. 
And dear is the bard, who, the would-be unknown, 
In the moments of rapturous leisure will deign 
To greet his fair friends with the exquisite strain. 
That strain have the Graces essay'd to repay, 
Tho' unpolish'd their verse, inharmonious their lay; 
That strain, had it flow'd to a worthier theme. 
Had it3 author drank deeper of Helicon's stream. 



To ages far distant perchance had gone down. 
And his lyre might have gain d him immortal re- 
nown, 
*' For his language is chaste, without aim or pre- 
tence ; 
" 'Tis a sweetness of breath from a soundness of 

sense." 
O 'tis pity indeed that so tender a swain 
In the regions of dullness is doomed to remain ; 
That a harp, whose wild note with such melody 

flows. 
Is attun'd among students and fellows morose ; 
No female applauds it, no sweetheart is nigh. 
Whose bosom might echo the tremulous sigh. 
But cheerless perhaps, 'mid the jargon of schools. 
The censure of wise men, the praises of fuols. 
Faint, ah faint on its chords are his fingers imprest. 
And faint are the raptures that swell in his breast. 



34 

O believe us, dear bard, we could wish we were 

near; 
We would hail the bright dawn of thy minstrel 

career; 
We would lend thee a charmer, whose beauty may 

claim 
Some lay fit to swell the loud trumpet of fame; 
That so, when hereafter thy county surveys 
The bright ray of thy worth, 'twill exult in the 

blaze ; 
So a second Petrarca 'twill greet in thy muse. 
In thy valley of B " ■> > ■ ■ > a second Vaucluse* 



35 



FRAGMENTS 



Intended for a Poem, on the 



RUINS OF ROME. 



" Magna vis est admonitionis iu locis." Cic. 

*' To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if 
' it were endeavoured, and would be foolish, if it were possible.— That man 
* is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the 
' plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the 
' ruins of Jona." Johnson. 



E 2 



8« 



The following fragments ivere intended to form 
part of a Poem which I once had in contemplation ; 
the idea was suggested by a College exercise^ 1 have 
now neither leisure nor inclination to attempt to patch 
them together, and having little to recommend them 
as detached pieces, they have made their appearance 
in this collection merely for the sake of swelling it 
to a more respectable size* 

A. C. 



57 



FRAGMENTS. 



vSUEEN of the trophled arch and stately dome. 
How is thy grandeur fled, imperial Rome! 
Is this the spot, for arts and arms renown'd. 
Where worth was reverenced, and valour crown'd; 
Where patriot fire, and glory's dazzling rays, 
• And hardy virtue's emulative praise, 
Taught the young warrior's kindling breast to 

claim 
Triumphant laurels and immortal fame T 



38 
Yes, thou wast once, through many a martial 
age. 
Nurse of the bard, the hero, and the sage; 
Thine was the sceptre, whose extended sway 
The subject world was destined to obey. 
When tributary nations, far and near, 
Crouch'd at the lightning of thy lifted spear; 
And thine the group that soar'd on fancy's wing. 
The mighty masters of the vocal string. > 

How art thou fallen! the barbarian hand 
Has torn thy laurels, and laid waste thy land. 
Yet, 'mid the wreck Ihy faded form displays. 
Imagination dreams of ancient days. 
And ev'ry object which the poet's flame 
In classic numbers has consigned to fame. 
Heroes and kings, the patriot and the bold, . 
Still active, still majestic, as of old. 



39 

'Woke by her strong enchantment rise to view. 
And live, in visionary pomp anew. 

Fir'd with the bright ideas as they spring. 
The muse excursive roves on fancy's wing ; 
From scene to scene with new delight convc7'd 
She views the lonely bow'r and desert shade; 
Traces the streamlet as it glides along ; 
Dwells on each spot immortaliz'd in song ; 
Meets kindred forms in ev'ry ruin's gloom. 
And hears sweet music round the poet's tomb. 

There, where the Forum's prostrate pile presents 
A blended heap of sunk magnificence. 
To her tranc'd eye what glorious forms appear. 
Trail the long robe, or shake the beamy spear ! 
There, as the tide of ages roll'd away. 
Were seen the tamers of despotic sway^ 



40 
Those generous patriots, who conspir'd to frauie 
The mighty fabric of the Roman name ; 
Who, fir*d with all the glow to freedom dear. 
Unswayed by lucre, unenslav'd by fear, 
Still in their comitry's cause stood prompt to aid. 
To wield the fasces, or to grasp the blade; 
Among her guardian demigods to plead ; 
Among her heroes in the strife to bleed; 
To scorn despair in fortunes adverse hour, 
When Latiura trembled at Porsenna's power; 
When Carthaginian swords, on Cannae's plain, 
Heap'd the red sod with mountains of the slain; 
When Brennus led the spoiler bands of Gaul, 
And Rome herself seem'd tott'ring to her fall. 

O it was then, when, peerless as she rose. 
Young empire struggled with surrcunding foes^ 



<1 

And a few acres on the Tyrrhene coast 
Were all the realm the queen of realms could boast 
'Twas then, in moral dignity combin'd. 
Shone forth the noblest virtues of the mind. 
Zeal, honour, prowess, energy were there, 
The genius to suggest, the soul to dare ; 
The warm persuasive language which supplies 
Fire to the brave and prudence to the wise ; 
The hardy spirit taught betimes, to know 
Flight te wors^eath and Fear the keenest foe, 
At glory's call, at freedom's plaint, to rear 
The all-subduing terrors of the spear. 
Among subjected nations to impart 
The copious stores of science and of art. 
And deem connected with the general plan 
The weal of Romans and the weal of man. 



42 
Yes, on that spot,* with trophied ruins strown, 
Home's infant genius reared its martial throne. 
When her first consul,! as aloft he bore 
The poniard streaming with Lucretia's gore, i 
Rous'd injured men to shake off tyrant sway, 
Chas'd the proud Tarquins from their reali^ away. 
And wak'd the flame which, through succeeding 

time, 
Urg*d on the warrior's soul to deeds sublime ; 
Wiiich, leagued with all a free-born heart can feel. 
Exalted hope, enthusiastic zeal, 
Blaz'd out, at length, by no vain fear confined. 
And stretched Rome's empire over half mankinds 
E'en now, methinks, the patriot sire I view. 
To the great purpose too severely true, 

* The Fcrum. 

t L. J. Brutus. r 



When his grievM eye, amid the traif rous throng. 
Saw his misguided children borne along. 
Yet then, even then, his sturdy soul represt 
The pleading voice of nature in his breast ; 
And^ as they bled beneath the Lictor's steel 
The first sad martyrs to young freedom's weal. 
The public father of the state alone 
Gaz'd on the deathful stroke without a groan. 

That level tract, o*er whose broad surface spread 
The modern city rears its splendid head,* 
And seems, with no rude massy fabrick bold, 
To crouch beneath the ruins of the old ; 
When Rome pour'd forth her martial bands afar 
That tract was sacred to the god of war. 



* Modern Rome chiefly occupies the old Campus 
Martins. 

f2 



44 
There would her youth in hardy sports engage^ 
And emulate the deeds of riper age. 
Brandish the gauntlet, or with flying pace 
Essay the honors of the dusty race, 
Or launch the jav'lin to its mark, or train 
The mett'led war-horse to endure the rein. 
Or clothe in steel their brawny limbs, and wield 
In mimic strife the falchion and the shield. 
While Tiber saw, along his verdant meads. 
Careering heroes and encountering steeds. 

Trained in such school, in conscious prowess 
strong. 
The Roman issued to th*embattled throng. 
Fierce nodded o'er his helm the plumy crest; 
Ihe scaly corslet glittered on his breast; 
His thighs were cuirass'd ; to the baldrick tied. 
The tempered blade hung radiant at his side ; 



46 
^tout iron greaves his sinewy legs enclasped ; 
His dexter hand the beamy jav'Hn grasp'd ; 
And the broad buckler on his left display 'd 
O'er the whole warrior cast its ample shade. 

Barbarian nations stoop'd ; their headlong miflit 
Scarce sterarad the torrent of unequal fight; 
Where'er they marshalled forth, his* ready spear 
Flam*d in their van or bristled in their rear. 
The tide of carnage deepened where he fought. 
In thickest death the trophied meed he sought. 
And seem'd at first, to hordes unskiird and rude. 
With more than mortal energies endued. 
Myriads in vain opposed his swift career ; 
Fierce without rashness, prudent without fear, 

« The Roman veteran under Caesar, 



46 
And wont, with unretorted eye, to brook 
Grim-visag d danger's most appalling look. 
Through dreary wastes, amid encircling foes. 
Through floods, and storms, and hyperborean 

snows. 
Through woods impervious to the blaze of day 
His steady phalanx held resistless way, 
Afid taught astonished hosts the force to feel 
Of valour, conduct, discipline, and zeal. 



NOTES ON GROOBY. 



■ tho^ circled with eternal greens, 

**Ta crown the forests with immortal screens." 

Pope's Wuidsor Forest, 1. 286. 

Long had the land, to nakedness a]rrey 
Seen years revolve and seasons waste awa^j. 

These and tlie four following lines refer to the nnculti- 
vated state of Giooby some twenty or thirty years ago. 

E'en winter lingered on the lap of May, 

"But winter, ling'ring, chilis the lap of May. '^ 

Goldsmith's Traveller 

Those three best joys, health, competence, and ease* 
*'' Reason's whole pleasure, all thejo\s of sense, 
" Lie in three words • health, peace, and competence." 

Pope's Essay on Man. 

Fearless of fortune, and resigned to fate. 

Borrowed from Dryden's translation of Virgil's Georgies^ 
book 2, 701. 

The bosom of its Father and its God, 
Borrowed from Gray's Elegy, line the last. 

Let tasteless others, with a servile awe, ^c. 

See a poetical Epistle to General Conway, from the Rev, 

Mr. Powis. 

IVith red right-arm 

*« Rubente dextera " Hor, 1, 2, 
** With red right arm at his own temples hnrl'd 
'* His thunders.'* 

Francis. 

The expression alludes to the lightnings and the thunder- 
bolts which are generally placed in the right hand of the 
statues of Jupitei-p as characteristics of the god. 



48 

What though no Faunus in thy green-wood glade^ ^c. 
** What tliough nor fabled dryad haunt their grove, 

** Nor naiad near their fountain rove, 
<* Yet all embodied to the mental si<rht, 

** A train of smiling virtues bright 

** Shall there the wise retreat allow 
*' And twine triumphant palms to deck the wand'rer's brow." 

Sheiistone's Rural Elegance. 
Some fair Lodona, ^c. 

See Pope's Windsor Forest, line 171. 

If chance some friendly Genius guide his way. 

See Verses addressed to VVm. ^hensione by Mr. Graven. 

Like the sage wanderer in Calypso' grot. 

Ulysses See the Odyssey, book 5. 

Ah, sweet is the harp, Sfc. 

A friend of mine at Cambrid<];e had written an anonymous 
poetical epistle to three ladies, whom he had therein ad- 
dressed by the title of *'the Graces." Bein«j accidentally 
apprized of the circumstance, and havm^ obtained some 
hlii^ht information of its contents, I sent him a letter in an- 
swer, in the same anapoestic metre. The whole of this 
letter, omitting the first eight lines, is given va the preced- 
ing' pages. The w©rds in italics are extracted from Itis 
epistle. 

And dear is the hardy who, the would-be unknown, 
, The collocation of the words in this line is justified by the 
example of Dyer, in the beginning of his Grongar Hill; 

" Silent nymph ! withcnrious eye, 

*^ Who, the purple evening, lie, 

*' On the mountain's lonely van,'* &c. 

For his language is chaste, without aim or pretence, 
^Tis a sweetness of breath from a soundness of sense ^ 

Borrowed from a poem by Mr. Webb. Sec DTsraeJi's 
Literary Miscellanies^ page 95, 



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